A New Life
by Ameraka
Summary: After the events of Collision, Jason and Connie return home to recover and start their new life together. /A/N: Chapter 3 up. Ideas, questions welcome! See profile for some rather random notes.
1. Raspberry Ripple

Jason and Connie walked up to her house, hand in hand. "This is our house now," said Connie. "Not just mine anymore."

"I've never really had a home since I left Dad's—just places I lived. Apartments."

"It was fun coming over to yours. Watching movies, eating popcorn…."

"I could keep it. We could go over there for a night out or something. Like the old days."

She laughed. "I like the new days better." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and led him into the house. He was stepping into his new home with her for the first time. The home they could live in for the rest of their lives.

For some reason, the thought of being settled down didn't scare him. He didn't feel trapped into commitment with her—on the contrary, he felt like he was starting out on a new adventure, new wonders each day, getting to know her deeper, love her, care for her. She was the adventure now, and he wouldn't trade the life he was stepping into for anything else in the world.

"So, shall I give you a tour?" said Connie.

Jason nodded. Even the familiar house seemed new, now that it was his too. There were, of course, places he had never been—and places he'd just peeked into, like her bed room.

"You're not too tired?" he said.

"I slept on the flight. I'm a little too hyper now to settle down yet."

"It doesn't matter how long we sleep in in the morning, because we're still on our honeymoon. We can do whatever we want."

"We need that."

She swept through the house with him, showing him the living room in a mock-tour-guide voice.

Then she led him to the attic, where he'd never been before. He barely squeezed through the doorway into the dusty room filled with toy boxes and Christmas decorations. Christmas—another time he looked forward to sharing with her.

He crept forward, having to lean over because of the low slanted ceiling, the dim light from the murky window shining in. Connie turned on the light, but it hardly brightened the room much more than it already was. He knelt beside her.

"I found this when I was looking through Mom's things after she died." She took a key from on top of the box beside it, and twisted it in the lock. "See this?" she said, pointing to the paper taped beneath the lid. "It says, 'For Connie. When she has kids."

"We don't have any kids yet."

"We're going to soon, aren't we?" She looked at him, guarded excitement in her eyes.

"I hope so. I'm really looking forward to starting a family with you, Connie Kendall Whittaker."

"Me too! I can just imagine little Jasons running around."

"And Connies. How many do you want?"

"I don't know. Three always seemed perfect to me—but more would be okay too. Maybe I'll just see if I can handle one first."

"I wonder what a combination of you and me will look like."

"I can't wait to see our baby! Hold him in my arms."

"Him?"

She shrugged. "I kind of think of it as a boy already, don't ask why. I really don't care what it is though."

"He could have your nose."

"And your eyes."

"And your lips." He kissed her softly. "I can't wait to see him, hold him."

"I just had a crazy idea," she said. "What if it's twins?"

"Things would be pretty wild—but that would be fun, going from just the two of us, to four."

"It might not be so fun for me, with-you know."

"Oh, that's true. Maybe not then. I wish you didn't have to bear all the inconvenience and pain—if I could, I'd take some of it for you."

"Yeah, it really isn't fair, is it?" She smiled. "But you can help me in lots of ways. Like getting ice cream at two in the morning. Anyway, you've had enough pain for two lifetimes. It's my turn."

"Except we both bear the responsibility for bringing a child into the world—you just get the hardest part."

She shrugged. "That's what being a mom is like. Besides, I gave my mom my share of trouble. I deserve a little bit in return."

"I will try to bear my share of the burden of parenting."

She smiled a little sadly. "I don't really know what that's like—at least, not firsthand. My dad was barely at home when I was little, and then when they got a divorce….

"I know you won't leave me. You'll be an amazing father."

"I will try. I haven't always been the best role model in the past—but with kids around, it'll have to be different. I love you—and I already love them, even though they haven't been born yet."

She smiled, a tear in her eye. It slipped onto her cheek. "I love them too."

He brushed back her tear, and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder. He laid his hand gently over her stomach. "They could be here, right now."

She pressed her hand over his. "A baby," she said. "Wow, just thinking about it…it's amazing. Then again…we might not have one for a while. Or we might adopt, like Eugene and Katrina."

"Or it could even stay just the two of us…."

"That would be okay, too. I mean, you're enough for me. And we have a lot of kids in our lives as it is.

"But I do want kids. I always did, in the back of my mind. And I really want to see what our babies will look like. To watch them grow up together—for us to be parents together—I want that so much, Jason."

"He or she will probably be a mixture of both of us—but she'll be her own person, too. There's no way to know what she'll be like till she gets here."

She smiled. "Maybe it _will _be a girl. Do you have any ideas for names?"

"What about June?"

"Oh, Jason…." A tear sparkled in her eye. "After Mom…. Or that could be her middle name. I don't want to settle on anything too soon—It's only just our honeymoon after all….It seems like we've been married for a long time. I mean—you know what I mean."

He nodded. "Paraguay. Even that feels kind of distant for some reason. Probably because of the relief that nothing came of it. I got rescued before the worst could happen."

"I can't get over how I almost lost you."

"I would have never given up, though. I'd always try to find a way back to you. And even if I didn't—I wouldn't betray you. I'd always be yours no matter what they did."

"I would never stop looking for you, either, Jason. I'd risk my life and my freedom if I had to."

A twinge of fear tingled through him at the prospect. "I'm glad you didn't have to. God worked everything together."

"Do you think we should have gone there at all?"

"The part that was our honeymoon was perfect. And besides my mistakes—yes, I think God wanted us to go there. It's brought some closure in a way. I found out Gray is more receptive to God now, partly because of how I forgave him. I hope that he keeps seeking the truth."

"As much as I don't see how you could forgive him—I'm glad you did. I hope you never have to go through something like that again. If so, I'll do anything I can to stop it."

"But if God wants me to—"

"He has to know you need a break, at least."

"So we can start our family. We still have a honeymoon for the rest of the week. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Just take it as it comes, I guess. I'm getting tired now…."

"Want to go to bed?"

"Let me show you a couple of these pictures first." She brought out some of her old pictures from grade school, and he immersed in her past. He couldn't get enough of knowing more about her, who she'd been, and how it made her who she was.

After they were done, they walked down the attic stairs. It was about 11:00. Jason picked her up in his arms, and carried her to their room.

He laid her down on the bed. He had hardly been in her bed room before. It was decorated, Connie-style, without any of his things moved in yet. There wasn't much he needed to bring over anyway. Soon he'd go get boxes of some of his stuff at the apartment….sell the rest. Tomorrow or the next day….whenever he got around to it.

Exhaustion swept over him. But he still had to go downstairs and get his pajamas. He went downstairs and carried up both of their suitcases. By the time he got back upstairs, she was dressed in a silky blue nightgown, and was tucked in bed, propped up on the pillows.

She patted the bed beside her. "This is the first time you're sleeping in here with me."

For some reason, he still felt a little out of place here…it was her room, and he was a guest. It was different when they were at the hotel—they were both travelers. This was her house. Even though he'd been here before, even though they'd been married for over a week, it felt like he was traversing new territory, and didn't want to overstep his bounds in any way.

He sat down beside her. She crept up behind him, and pressed her fingers into his shoulder. A new ache sprang into being, but at the same time it tingled, as if un-knotting….She massaged both shoulders just below his neck—every muscle ached, but he leaned into her touch—

She went lower, and a sharp pain shot through his back—he gasped.

"I'm sorry! Should I stop?"

"No—feels good. Just— a lot of tension."

She continued, pressing to his ribs—he cried out, and flinched away.

"Jason—what is it?"

"Not your fault."

"This is more than just tension. Let me see."

She helped him lift his shirt off. She gasped. Her fingertips brushed his back ever so lightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You're all black and blue back here." She crawled over the bed to face him. "And—" She shook her head, her face flushed. He looked down; his stomach and ribs blossomed with bruises. Come to think of it, the guards had punched and kicked him a few times—then there was the time he jumped out of the moving truck….it was just that, nowadays, any time he was able to walk away from something, it was a win.

She touched the edge of the worst bruise, so delicately she couldn't possibly hurt him. "I thought they didn't torture you."

"They didn't. Just beat me up a little bit when I was trying to escape."

"And you didn't think you should tell me?"

"It didn't seem important."

"Jason—"

"Nothing's broken. I just need some rest—and the bruises will be gone after a month or so. I hardly noticed them—partly because of the painkillers, and partly because this is nothing compared to what I've experienced before."

She laid a hand on his arm. "This isn't nothing. Even though it's been a lot worse—it's still too much. I just don't want you to get hurt ever again. I just wish I could take some of it myself, so you didn't have to feel it."

"I never want you to have to go through what I have. I'd put myself through it a hundred times before I let it happen to you."

"I'd protect you, too. At the cost of my own life."

"I'm not worth your life."

"You are to me. You can't stop me from loving you that much, so you might as well get used to it."

He touched her cheek, running his fingers softly down its smooth surface. "I just hope it never comes to that."

She nodded. "Meanwhile, you have to get better. Is there anything I can do?"

"Just being with you is enough."

"At least it's not like the other times, when I could barely touch you at all." She crawled back behind him and continued the massage, telling him of the time when he'd been unconscious in the hospital, and she'd given him her first kiss—on his forehead, one place where there weren't any injuries.

He wanted to start fresh—begin his new life. Do new things that weren't tainted with the past. That would take some time…but then, they were beginning already. He'd just moved in with her. And he now knew he could never totally escape the past—but he didn't have to dwell in it. He could let it inform his decisions, but he could move forward to an ever brighter future. Any future with Connie was going to be wonderful beyond his imagining.

He just had to go along with it, and see what happened.

She finished, and, relaxed, his muscles aching and tingling, he lay down beside her. She wrapped her arm around him, pressed close, snuggling against him so her cheek lay on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, and, her warm body pressed up next to him, sleep crept up on him and enveloped him.

He woke up, Connie next to him. Sunlight from the window played over her face. Her arm was under his now, and his arm had somehow snuck beneath her, wrapped around her back.

She was so beautiful….The flawless sculpture of her temple, her cheekbone—Her lips, slightly parted, enticed him. A stunning work of art, untainted by the world. A sleeping angel that he dared not awake.

He could still not believe that someone so perfect existed, much less chose him. It made him fear to touch her—his touch could only bring her shame in some way. How could she accept the touch of someone so—earthly….but she did. In return, he had to please her with his entire being.

She stirred. Her eyes opened, entrancing him, pulling him toward her. She kissed his forehead.

"'Morning," he said.

A smile spread across her lips. "'Morning, Jason." She lay back on the pillow, the sunlight shimmering on her blue silk top, creating highlights and shadows.

She slipped her fingers into his hair, twirling it absently. "This is so nice," she said. "I want to stay here all day."

"There's nowhere we have to be. Except we might eventually want breakfast."

"Right now, you're all I need." She sat up, the covers swirled around her legs. She leaned down, kissed his cheek. Then his lips. The kiss grew, and built—he couldn't get enough of her. He needed more of her, always.

She ran her hand down over the scar on his cheek. There was still the impulse to flinch—but he resisted it. He knew she loved him, all his scars, even though he couldn't comprehend it.

"I'll get make you some breakfast," he said. "More like brunch."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. You just stay in bed. I'll make what you like best."

"I like _you_ best." She yawned and stretched, cuddling into him. "You're so warm….I want to stay like this. Don't leave."

"I could order out. But then I'd still have to go down and get it. I really want to make you something."

"Okay. Don't stay away long. If you do, I'll have to come down and see if you got kidnapped."

"That's not going to happen."

"It's not worth letting you out of my sight to have breakfast if you might be kidnapped…."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does. You're beautiful, my Jason."

Heat rose to his cheeks. "I still don't know how you can see that."

"I don't know how you can_not _see it, every time you look in the mirror. But I don't want a conceited husband, so it's all good." She waved an arm. "Go, so you can get back faster."

He laughed. "Okay." And he hurried down the stairs. Whipped up a breakfast of pancakes and bacon and eggs and toast and orange juice. Then carried them upstairs on a tray, steaming hot. He laid it down on the bed between them, and lay down, half-reclining, Roman-style. She sat up against the pillows, and picked up a piece of bacon. Bit into it. "This is good! It's especially wonderful since you made it. I can taste your love."

He laughed and took a bite of toast. "You're right; I did pour all my love into this. I'll always do that, with everything I do for you."

"I know." She sat back, crunching on toast. "This is so nice. I could lie here all day. "

"We can."

"But I might want to do something. I don't know what though." Her gaze flitted across his torso. "I hate seeing those."

"I'll put my shirt on."

"Don't, unless you're cold or something."

"Not really."

"I could look at you all day. It's just that those bruises look painful."

"Your love for me cancels out any pain."

They finished the rest of their breakfast, resulting in butter-stained and crumb-scattered sheets. Now they'd have to wash them. So they were forced to get up. Connie stood, the top quilt draped around her like the regalia of a queen. She walked downstairs while Jason went into the basement and shoved the sheets into the washing machine.

He sat down on the couch with her and they flipped on the TV. There was a movie on about an adventure in Australia, and they both got involved in watching it. Then some old TV shows like _Green Acres _and _I Dream of Jeannie_ came on, and they couldn't resist watching them. By that time it was nearing 5:00 and Connie got up, insisting that she make supper. The quilt still draped around her, she traipsed into the kitchen, and soon the room was filled with a spicy aroma.

In a little while, she brought in a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. She sat down beside him, and they ate the spaghetti together, then they shared the rest of the chocolate brownie ice cream from the freezer. Then they popped some popcorn and watched the first movie of _The Lord of the Rings,_ cuddled up together under the quilt.

When it was over, they lay together, sleepy, in the dark.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I will give you anything, even unto the half of my kingdom."

"Well, what I want is—" she kissed his cheek—"you."

"You already have me."

She laughed. "Well, then—I can't really think of anything. Just never going anywhere again."

"I don't know if that's practical."

"Well, I know, but it's what I want. Right now, anyway. I can't imagine wanting anything more than I want you, and I have you."

"It's just that—I want to do as much as I can for you. You give me so much; I want to make sure I'm giving it to you in return. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Hm….I can't really…." Her eyebrows shot up. "Well, there is one thing."

"What is it?"

"Raspberry Ripple. I want the secret."

"Connie…" he said in mock-horror.

"I'm a Whittaker now. You can't deny me."

"Well, okay." He outlined the recipe.

"So that's it! Now you and your dad don't just have to rely on each other. I'm excited to start making some."

"We can make some together."

"There's so much I want to do with you. Just do things with you, all day. That's all I want from life right now.…There's so much we haven't done yet that it'll take all our lives. How can we just do everyday stuff like jobs that take us away from each other? I don't want to leave you. I don't want this to end."

"Let's not think about that. Maybe we should go up to bed and—"

"Okay." She led him by the hand, and they went up the steps to the room that they shared.


	2. Happiness

Connie opened her eyes. Jason lay there beside her, his chiseled features illuminated by soft light filtering through the blue curtains. Her arm was draped across his chest, but she dared not move it for fear she'd wake him.

His chest rose and fell peacefully. He seemed free of nightmares. Maybe, even in his dreams, he knew that he was with her, safe in Odyssey….

He deserved everything she could possibly give him. He didn't believe he did, but that only made him all the more deserving. She'd always known there was something special about him, even when they were just friends. And now that they were married, her love for him exploded with passion such as she'd never known. She couldn't imagine loving him more—at the same time, she always wanted to find more about him, and love each nuance she discovered.

_How are you mine?_ she thought. She studied his face in profile-his well-defined brow descending to his nose, his lips firm yet sensitive—oh, she longed to kiss them….His strong chin—his jawline and cheekbone, this side unmarred by scars—the tan skin, lightly brushed with an overnight beard—she liked the sandpapery feel of it, but at the same time, she liked his clean-shaven look just as much, and would really rather feel that than a beard. Still, she liked this slightly unshaven look, like a secret agent who'd been out all night on a mission…._Not that I want him to be a secret agent, but that's part of him, so I love that too…._

His head of soft rather unruly brown hair…and his closed eyes, lashes lightly shadowing his cheek. Those eyes had looked into hers last night, blazing with love. She never thought that each time with him could surpass the last, but he always gave himself completely to her, loving her in ways only he could, and in ways that only she could be loved, as if he could instinctively know what she needed. He was tender, careful, vulnerable, yet powerful, strong, and passionate without reservation. She couldn't imagine that anyone in the world could be more amazing—but they didn't matter. He was meant for her, she for him, each movement part of a symphony that could only be created by them, all the more beautiful because of it.

She longed to wake him up, but waited, aching, for him.

He stirred. Her heart leaped. He turned onto his side and a smile lit his face as his brilliant blue eyes focused on hers. She slid close to him, against the warm skin of his chest. She kissed him on the shoulder, next to the bandage over the bullet wound.

He lifted his hand to her brow, and ran his fingers gently over her temple to her cheek, slipping back her hair. "So beautiful," he whispered, his hand trembling as it ran down her jawline to her chin. "I've woken up to some terrible things, but none of that matters every time I wake up to you. I still can't believe that we're here together—there's no reason to go any further away from each other than this." He pressed his hand gently to her cheek. "Or this." He kissed her.

She pushed back from him, her hand on his chest. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Keep going. I mean, maybe you need a break."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Not from you."

They pressed together, kissing in a passionate frenzy, heat roiling over her skin. His hands were fire. She let him give her all she longed for—the utmost expression of their love.

She lay back, her skin racing as if with sheet lightning. They'd danced through the storm they'd created and come through on the other side. She lay against his strong arm, her cheek pressed against his, just breathing together, wrapped in wordless joy.

She drifted through pleasant dreams, half-awake, half-asleep. As if they were on a boat together, floating down a gentle river. She needed nothing but him. This.

He turned to her after a little while. "Maybe we should get up."

"_Should_!" she scoffed. "I like this."

"But we might like something else too."

"I don't know…."

He grasped her hand. "Come on."

She stepped out of bed after him, realizing, reluctantly, that maybe lying around all day wasn't the best thing to do. Even if she didn't see a reason to leave this room.

She stood in the sunbeam coming through the window, and he hugged her, his hand in her hair. "My Connie," he said. "My love."

She touched the bullet scar beneath his heart, then kissed it, thinking of how she almost lost him—more than once. It made this time with him all the sweeter.

After their shower, he shaved while she blow-dried her hair. As she turned her head to dry the left side of her hair, she found herself facing him. Water still beaded across his whip-scarred skin. Her heart broke for the pain he'd had to endure. She reached out, brushed his back with her fingers, feeling the ridges of scars, longing again to erase what happened, and only give him good memories. Like the ones they were making now.

He looked at her questioningly. She flipped her hair back up, and set the hairdryer on the bathroom sink. "You deserve happiness," she said. "You've gone through enough horrible things for two lifetimes."

He pressed his lips together. "There's no way to know what God has planned, though."

"He can't have anything but happiness planned. It's got to be over. We—you've—earned it."

"I don't know that I've earned it. Some of what happened to me was my fault."

Anger flashed through her. "You deserved none of that. I don't care what you did. You never hurt anyone innocent. You never gave anyone any more than they deserved. You've been shot, beaten up, kidnapped—" She touched near the bandage on his shoulder. "There's hardly ever a time when you aren't wounded. This has to be the end of it."

"Well, part of it was my profession. And I wanted to relive it by going to Paraguay. But now… I'm not going to jump back in it unless—"

She took a step toward him, her heart leaping with dread. "Unless-? You mean you might go back to it?"

"Part of what I learned in Paraguay was that I need adventure. It was my fear, not my desire, keeping me from it."

"For good reason."

"I know. I'm not going to be foolhardy again. But it's a part of me. I'm not going back to it, though, unless I know it's the right path for me to take. You are the most important thing in my life now, and nothing's going to drag me from you."

"Especially now that we're going to start a family."

"Are we?"

"We talked about this yesterday." She stopped. "You still want a baby, right?"

A smile spread across his face. "Of course I do. What do you think this—" he kissed her lips—"is all about?"

Heat rose to her cheeks. "Oh. Well, I kind of forget about—I mean, you're so—I can't think of anything else when we're together."

They dressed and went out to his car, then sped through the town and out onto the highway to the back side of Trickle Lake, a secluded spot they'd discovered once. A small beach no one ever came to. Forget-me-nots carpeted the ground, and moss spread beneath the willows, the branches swaying gently in the breeze. Black dragonflies, their bodies metallic green, darted among the flowers.

Jason spread a blanket on the ground, and they sat on it, the sky blue above their heads, reflecting in the lake. They brought out sandwiches and potato salad, and ate them side by side. After they finished, she leaned up against him, and laced her fingers between his, and they watched the waves lap the beach.

The sun swathed her in warmth, and she lay down on the blanket, he beside her, and they slept, wrapped up together, safe, secure, and happy.


	3. Gift

Jason woke next to her, the blanket soft beneath him. Sunlight played across her face, dappled with shadows from the willow leaves. He'd had good dreams, all about Connie. Except—toward the end, there had been a feeling of dread…an echo of his past that he struggled to keep away. The feeling lingered, casting a shadow across the daylight. He didn't want anything to taint his time with her. But as much as he hated the idea of it overwhelming him, dragging him back down into the darkness, he couldn't bring himself to consider a worse possibility. That it might have something to do with their future.

She awoke, and he slipped his fingers into her hair, banishing those thoughts.

He was hers. She was his. _Now_ was all that mattered.

They swam for a while, then they met out in the water.

"You are stunning," he said. "Don't ever stop."

"Stop what?"

"Being you." He picked her up, kissing her under the bright sun, water dripping off of her in a ray of sparks.

On the way back into town, Jason pulled up at a gas station. As he waited for the car to fill up, Connie went inside. A truck stood on the edge of the parking lot, flowers spilling over the edge. Jason walked over to the truck, and picked out the most beautiful bouquet, along with two boxes of strawberries. He handed the man some cash, and then walked back to the car. Just as he got inside, Connie came out with a plastic bag in her hand. She slid in beside him.

"Wow, those are beautiful!" she said, taking the bouquet. She grasped his hand, smiled, dimpling one cheek, as if she had a secret tucked there. "I got you something, but it's not so spectacular." She handed him a grape pop bottle. "You like that kind, right?"

"Thanks. What else do you have in there?"

Her eyes widened a little; she shrank back, shielding the bag with her hand. "Nothing. I mean—" her hand darted into the bag—"Want some chocolate?" She held up a chocolate bar.

"Sure."

She handed him a piece, but he wondered if there was anything else in the bag she was keeping from him—and why.

"I got some strawberries too," he said.

She turned around to look in the back seat. "Ooh! You're amazing. Let's go home and eat them. Maybe we'll eat them all."

He started the car. "Maybe not all. Unless that's what you want for supper."

"Come to think of it, I would kind of like to go out for supper, if you wouldn't mind."

"I'd like to take you to the fanciest restaurant in town."

"How about La Chalet? I mean I normally don't like French that much but I feel like being fancy. Dressing up, sharing the very best with you."

"I'll always try to give you the very best, Connie."

"I just feel like we should go all out. It's kind of a change of heart, I know, and maybe once I get home I'll feel like staying there and eating strawberries."

Jason drove home. He almost automatically turned down the road to his old apartment, but then kept going. He still couldn't believe they shared a house together, a special place to make their own. He'd been on his own so much—independent, bouncing from one thing to the next—but now, even if they moved, he'd always have a home with the woman he loved.

After parking the car, Jason stepped inside, carrying the strawberries. Connie arranged the flowers in a vase, while Jason set the strawberries on the counter and opened the fridge. There wasn't a lot in it, since they hadn't really gone shopping yet. He shoved one of the boxes on the top shelf, and shifted some things around to make room on the bottom shelf, leaving just the middle for odds and ends like mustard and relish and some possibly two-week-old applesauce.

When he shut the fridge door, Connie was nowhere to be seen. His heart flipped; he hadn't been out of her presence for days. Nothing could have gone wrong, but he still felt a sense of panic. And an acute sense of separation. To be out of touching distance—his skin ached for her touch, for her fire to snap through his veins—

He sat down on the couch. _It's probably even worse because of what we went through. How I almost never saw her again. I would have loved her just as much, but it would have been agony to be separated—worse than any torture they could conjure up. I would have remembered every look, every gesture…But now I'll get to make a lot more memories with her. I'll never let anything separate us again. _

_Maybe she's getting ready to go out to eat. I should get ready—but then, it won't take me very long. I'll go upstairs and get started, and see how she's doing. _

He headed upstairs. The bed room door was closed. Maybe she wanted her privacy—although he didn't know why she'd want to hide anything from him.

He knocked on the door.

Silence. Then, "Yeah?" Her voice sounded strained, almost as if she'd been crying.

"Are you okay?"

Another moment. A quiet, almost strangled, "Yeah."

What could be wrong? Had he hurt her feelings somehow? If so, he'd make it up to her a hundred times over—

Footsteps. The door clicked open. She stood there in the dim light, holding something in her hand. Her hair was ruffled, and tears streaked her cheeks.

"Connie, what happened?"

"Oh, Jason, it's—I don't know what to do, it's—" She shook her head. "I can't believe it!"

"What is it?"

"I just got it on a whim just in case and—" She threw her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her, as she shook with sobs or laughter, he couldn't tell. Her cheek pressed to his, damp with warm tears. She kissed his lips, looking up at him with eyes alight with joy—

She held up something in her hand. A pregnancy test. "Look at this, Jason. Do you know what this means?"

His heart flipped. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes, Jason. We're having a baby!" She tackled him again, nearly slamming him back against the wall. He could barely stand up as it was. Could hardly get his mind around it. He'd wanted a baby but never imagined it would be so soon—

His vision wavered, the room spinning. He maneuvered to the bed and sat down. She sat down beside him, arm wrapped around his. "You're happy, right?"

"Of course I'm happy. I just—can't believe it."

"Me either. I just saw the test in the gas station, and I picked it up on a whim—I was overdue, but I heard somewhere if you're stressed you skip a month so I wasn't worried about it, but after how we talked about a baby I thought, I might as well. I mean, just in case. I probably wasn't—but then—these things are really pretty accurate and—I still can't believe it. I'm pregnant! That even sounds weird." She pressed a hand over her stomach. "It's not just a vague hope. It's real! Now I've got so many things I have to do—and we've got to tell everybody! Do you think we should go over right now and—"

"Maybe we should keep it a secret that we share with each other, just tonight."

"Yeah, maybe so. But I'm going to be bursting to tell someone."

"We can celebrate at the restaurant."

"I might as well eat good food while I can. I'll probably get weird cravings too. That'll be fun."

"I'll bring you whatever you want, day or night."

She smiled. "What if I want chocolate from Spain?"

"I'll try to get it. I do have ways of finding things, you know. Secret agenting does have its perks sometimes."

"I'll send you out on missions for exotic food in the middle of the night."

"You will be the most beautiful boss I've ever had."

She wrapped her hand around his, and he pressed his hand over her stomach.

He looked into her eyes and kissed her, the wonder of it creeping up on him, though he could still hardly grasp what had happened. That he was a father. That, in nine months, he'd be holding their own little baby in his arms.


End file.
